


Similes and Metaphors

by StealthKaiju



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Ficlet, M/M, Or Is It?, Unrequited Love, but that's why we like him, jaskier is a petty bitch, post episode six, probably because Geralt is dense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 01:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: A 'missing' epilogue to season one's episode six, because why would you end it like that?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	Similes and Metaphors

**Author's Note:**

> I only know these characters through the TV show and my own warped headcanon. This is purely self-indulgent, but if you like, yay!

The Witcher considered leaving the bard to wander down the monster-ridden path by himself, even though he knew there was no way in hell he would survive it. He huffed out a breath. His anger, which had surprised him by the sheer consuming heat of it – a boiling wave, flooding his blood and senses- had now dulled into a small, background hum, an itch at the back of his mind.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered, and began his way down the mountain.

It was barely an hour before he caught up with Jaskier, who was walking at a quicker pace than usual, head down, clenched fists at his sides. Geralt deliberately stepped on a twig, signalling his presence, and the bard stopped briefly, then carried on at increased speed. ‘Don’t trouble yourself Geralt,’ he said, his tone bitter as bad ale.

‘We will walk as far as Roach, then part ways,’ Geralt said, walking slightly behind the other man.

Jaskier stopped again, a cold laugh escaping him. ‘No, dear Witcher,’ he replied. ‘I have no desire to walk with a man that despises me. Overtake, you can very easily.’

That anger sparked. Trust the bard to make the issue about him. ‘Do not argue.’

‘You do not get to tell me what to do. We do not work together any more, and you have made it very clear that we are not friends.’ His gaze remained straight ahead. ‘Were we ever friends?’ he asked quietly.

Geralt remained silent.

Jaskier sighed. ‘There I go, talking all the time. And yet, you say so much with no words at all.’ He looked at his feet. ‘The irony would be comical, if this was happening to someone else.’ His voice grew soft. ‘Just leave me be, Witcher. Please.’

‘There’s no need to be-‘

‘If you say ‘dramatic’, may I remind you I am a bard, and a fucking good one, whatever you might think. And ‘dramatic’ as I am, even I can tell the difference between what love is in stories and what it is in real life.’ He turned to the other, eyes bright with indignation. ‘You haven’t worked that out yet, have you?’

Geralt barred his teeth unthinkingly. ‘What?’

‘You have been chasing a woman as unobtainable as a star. No, a woman like fire, as each time you get burnt.’

There was the sound of grinding teeth. ‘No metaphors.’

Jaskier made a noise like a donkey dying of asphyxiation. ‘For fuck’s sake, those are similes!’ He spread his arms wide. ‘She’s never been good for you – all these excuses you make for her, like she’s worth something. And I do pity her, much as I can’t stand her for what she does to you. And it’s not because she can’t have something she desperately wants, nor even that her choice was taken from her; it’s because she is completely incapable of love. Like a fish trying to fly.’ He turned to face away again. ‘And that is her choice.’

Jaskier began walking again. ‘Whatever you are to each other, this ridiculous dance, it isn’t love.’

‘You don’t know anything about it,’ Geralt hissed.

Jaskier turned round, mouth stretched in a snarl. ‘Oh, don’t I? Oh tell, me White Wolf…’ he began, his voice a saccharine sing-song, ‘the nights you spent with her, who was with you in the mornings? Hhhmm? Who was left to deal with the mess you were? Every. Single. Time?’

‘Enough!’ Geralt snapped. His hands twitched, and the fury rose in him again, and he thought how easy it would be to just snap the bard’s neck. Leave the body by the side of the path, let it be eaten by whatever hunted in the surrounding copse.

Jaskier smiled coldly. ‘Perhaps you’d better kill me. Perhaps you’ll worry that I’ll make a song about this.’ He sighed, shoulders slumping. ‘After all, I’ve seen many of your wounds, not just the ones on your body.’ He bit his lip, his eyes darting to look away. ‘No worry,’ he said softly. ‘I won’t tell a soul.’

For Geralt it was if his mind was filled with molasses. The sun seemed too bright, the sound of crickets overwhelming, the smell of rotting meat from somewhere. Something about what Jaskier was saying, or not saying. It was a frustrating, confusing feeling, as if he’d been given a book that contained all of life’s answers, but found he had forgotten how to read.

Jaskier had started to walk away again. ‘Give me a head-start. I’ll yelp if something tries to kill me – you’ll hear it wherever you are, then you can deal with your conscience however you see fit.’

A few moments later he had turned a corner, and was no longer in sight.


End file.
